The sight of you brings a flood of foreign emotions I could not quite name. I look at you and my stare instantly softens as soon as they meet your enchanting amber brown eyes. My heart flutters at the melody of your laughter; my face feels warm at t...
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Going home was the biggest mistake I've made. I stared at my reflection whilst my mother looked for some foundation to cover the bruise that stained my left cheek. I frown slightly when I hear her curse under her breath. I bring myself to turn around, getting a better look at her. I noticed the way she was dressed, and how she made sure to cover herself the best she could.
She wore a midnight-black dress that only revealed her ankles. The dress was slightly tight, but I could tell it was comfortable. She gave me a tight-lipped smile and clicked her tongue a bit. "I'm so sorry, sweetie. Just explain to them you fell, okay?" Her tone was reassuring as she walked over to me, placing her hand against my cheek and gently running her thumb over the bruise.
I flinch slightly and place my hand around her wrist, looking up at her and noticing the tears in her blue eyes. I sigh and move her hand away from my cheek, feeling uncomfortable with the sudden affection. I got up and pushed past her, exiting the room, and making my way down to the living room where I was introduced by loud laughter and annoying chattering of men and a woman.
I balled my hand into a fist and sunk my nails into the palm of my hand, feeling the small amount of blood tickle my hand, slipping between my fingers, so I shoved my hand into my pocket. I waltz into the room and the loud chattering came to an end when my father laid his eyes on me.
"He's grown up." A woman said. I glance at her, noticing the way her black hair fell onto our shoulders, the way her lips were stained with red, and her stunning blue eyes glaring at me. I glare back. She chuckled darkly and looked at my father. He licks his lips and walks over to me, fixing his maroon-red tie. I backed up a bit as he was too close for my comfort.
"How about you greet your elders, son." The way he said 'son' sounded forced. It sounded like a slur the way he said it. I give him a knowing look and shake my head. But his hand was quick to connect to my cheek, my bruised side throbbing from the hard slap that caught me off guard. I stare at the ground as I bite my tongue, holding back the tears that threatened to fall out.
"Speak. Matteo."
The room was quiet.
I stayed quiet.
I could hear him breathing roughly, ready to hit me again but one of his brothers spoke up, a hint of guilt in their tone, "It's alright, Emilio." I slowly look up again, a tear slipping out and sliding down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away and look down at my feet.
This evening is going to be terrible.
It's currently midnight and I lay on the ground, my knees to my chest and my head resting on the hard floor. I taste the salty, metallic blood flooding my mouth as I lay there, tears slipping out my eyes and staining the floor. I use my hands to cover my face, to protect me from any kicks my father might throw at me.
"Get up." He yelled, I heard him walk around my body, almost checking to see if I was somewhat dead or passed out. I don't move... I don't want to. I close my eyes and just think about happier things like puppies or ice cream or Naomi.
What would she do if I walked through the doors of the school with a bruised eye and a busted lip? I can imagine her face forming a confused and worrisome expression. I can feel her gently caressing my face and tracing her thumb over my purple bruise. I can smell her coconut scent which I'm slowly starting to tolerate.
I didn't realize my body relaxing until my father kicked my back, causing me to gasp, the blood in my mouth spilling onto the ground as I let out a loud cry. My body is shaking, and my hands are pressed against my face as I try my best not to let him see me cry. He knows I'm weak, but I can't allow him to see his only son cry.
He kicks me again, but this time with a lot of force and towards my face. My hands that stayed over my face sort of protected me, but I still felt his shoe connect with my fingers and my hands pushing harder against my face.
For a second, I let him continue to throw kicks at my hands, breaking my fingers and tearing the skin from my knuckles but I was too gone to feel the pain of my father hurting me repeatedly, like he was waiting for some sort of reaction from me.
He does this to make me stronger and to make me fight back. But it's only breaking me down, bit by bit. I wonder why I was born into a family like this. My mother is right, but my father is the worst being in the entire world.
I always wonder what it would be like to have a father who truly loved me and cared, a father who could help me with my struggles and push me to be the best. A father who will understand his son and always stand by his side, even when he's wrong.
Instead, I'm stuck with a father who finds pleasure in abusing his wife and son, a father who's barely there, a father who cares more about our family reputation and wealth than his actual family.
I always lay in bed and think to myself, 'What was he like before I was born?' Was he a kinder man or was he always so abusive and neglectful? I don't know. There is a little saying I learnt, 'The abused become the abusers.' I don't know if that's quite right but... maybe he was like me and finds hitting me normal.
"Non vale la pena amarti, Matteo." He says angrily, he stops kicking my hands and I hear him pant. I feel my hands have gone numb and I keep my eyes closed, not daring to look at the state of them. If I'm correct, he kicked me about 8 times.
I groan slightly as I feel his hand roughly grab a hold of my hair and pull me up slightly. I slowly move my hands away from my face and to my sides, I feel the slight trickle of blood run down my middle finger and drip onto the ground.
He looks me in my eyes with a hateful glare, "Non sei nessuno. Nessuno amera qualcuno che non puo reagire." He whispers, his grip tightening, almost like he was going to rip my hair out. His words hurt. It was like a knife piercing through me. But I was used to it. I couldn't say anything, I couldn't do anything but allow him to say this to me. I'm like a useless puppet. I have no strings. I have no heart.
"You're going to die before anyone can love you. And I'll be the one to kill you." He says before spitting on me and throwing me to the ground.
I curl my body into a ball and lay there, bleeding and broken. I was in pain. I heard the door open and the sound of my father exiting the basement. There's silence for a moment. My body hurts... I just want to die right here. I want to die and come back but have a better family. I want to be in a family... where I know what love is and how to show it...
...How to feel like I'm falling in love...
...But I can't die now, not yet. I'm only twelve.
I hear quick footsteps rush into the room. The person's heels clicked against the concrete floor. I hear sobbing and soft whimpering. But I couldn't get up, I couldn't move so... I just closed my eyes and the last thing I heard before I fell into a deep void was my mother's voice calling my name. The sound of panic and guilt rang through her honey-like voice.
"Matteo."
Translations:
1. "You are not worth loving, Matteo." 2. "You are nobody. No one will love someone who can't fight back."
